


There is Always a You

by voleuse



Category: The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 07:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17096723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: Today I’m correcting my mistakes.Habits are hard to break.





	There is Always a You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyReisling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyReisling/gifts).



> Set after _The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue_.

i. _I told you the truth about my scar_  
Monty woke silently, cringing away from the hand that had landed on his shoulder, and he curled into a ball and waited, and--

“Monty.” 

Monty gulped in breath, eyelids fluttering open.

“Monty. Darling.”

And it was morning, and he was in Greece, and that was Percy’s voice, and Percy’s hand, and he was fine and free.

Sunlight was shining through the window of their boarding room, bright blots of gold that shimmered through Monty’s sleep-dusted eyelashes. He unraveled his limbs and rolled back to face Percy, who of late had taken to cuddling Monty to wakefulness as much as possible.

“Morning, Perce,” Monty croaked out, and Percy’s shoulders relaxed before he stretched out on the bed next to Monty.

“You’ve been abed most of the morning,” Percy said. “I went to the market, and I forgot I might startle you.” Percy’s lips grazed Monty’s temple, placing two kisses like a dual apology.

“Well.” Monty pressed closer, looping his arms around Percy’s waist. “This makes up for it, I suppose,” he murmured.

Percy chuckled, and his hip nudged against Monty in the most delightful way. “You suppose?”

Monty dipped his head and trailed his lips against Percy’s collarbone. “I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you.” He did _that thing_ , and Percy’s breath caught sharply before he pulled back.

“There’s breakfast,” he said, his gaze tracing reluctance over Monty’s jaw. “Those rolls that you like, still warm.”

Monty considered that offering for less than a second. “They’re quite lovely cold, as well,” he decided.

And Percy’s mouth did the most delightful thing next, and that was that for, honestly, the rest of the afternoon.

 

ii. _my instinct, a poor polaris_  
Percy had opted to stay in that night, as he felt he’d let himself grow rusty with the bow and it warranted an evening of recompense. (It took a long, awkward conversation to convince Monty that no, he wasn’t feeling poorly, and no, he didn’t think he was about to have a fit, and no, he didn’t need Monty to hover around like some mother hen, clucking over him like he was about to topple over.) With a sense that Monty staying in would mean no practice would get done, Percy persuaded him to to go out with those two Germans they had met the other night, and wouldn’t it be fun to play a few hands of whist, maybe collect a few coins in the process?

So Monty went out, and Percy stayed in, and for a few hours of Vivaldi, that was fine.

But the night grew long, and Percy had tuned his violin for the seventh time, and worn a track through his resin as he cared for the bow.

When Monty returned to their room, it was half past one, and Percy felt like an absolute wreck of a human, and knew he’d done a bad job of hiding it when Monty took one glance at him and rushed to his side.

“Darling, I knew I shouldn’t have gone out,” Monty bemoaned. “What happened? Do you need a physician? Some sort of tonic?”

Percy blinked at the onrush of guilt. “No, I--” He shook his head. “I didn’t take ill, Monty.”

Monty’s lament cut off abruptly. He lifted a tentative hand to Percy’s face, and touched his thumb to the spot between Percy’s eyebrows where, Percy realized, a frown had been rooted for almost as long as the stars had been out.

Percy cleared his throat. “You were out so long, and I, well,” he stammered. “Perhaps I became a bit worried.”

“About?” Monty prompted, though the bemused expression on his face indicated he had some sense of it already.

Percy leaned forward, until their foreheads rested against each other. “About me being a jealous idiot,” he confessed.

Monty’s sigh was a quiet one. “Or me having a terrible history of being a selfish dolt?” he inquired.

Percy snorted. “Well, that too.”

Then Monty was climbing onto Percy’s lap, and his hands were toying with the stays of Percy’s trousers, and Monty paused only to capture Percy’s gaze and vow, “Only, ever, you.”

 

iii. _we swim in glittering murk_  
“This is,” Percy observed, the glass bottles clinking together as he rearranged them on the desk, “a lot of gin, Monty.” He noted that one bottle was empty already, and another half-gone. “Honestly.”

Monty rolled over in bed with a groan, and Percy took a moment to appreciate the rumpled lines of his body before settling on the bed next to him. 

“Also,” Percy continued, “I was only gone for two hours. How did you manage all this in two hours?”

Monty struggled up onto his elbows. “I thought you loved me for my ingenuity,” he pouted.

Percy rolled his eyes. “Not,” he said, “in the realm of alcohol procurement.”

Monty waggled his eyebrows, on the intriguing side of obscene, then collapsed back on the bed. “Madame Galanos put me to work gutting fish,” he said. “Best you not smell my hands for a while. Possibly days.”

“You might think to ration,” Percy said. “Given our impoverished circumstances.”

“Yes, well.” Monty burrowed back under the cover of the bedsheets, with his arm looped over Percy’s hips. “I shall learn to become drunk on your favors alone, my dear.”

Percy tried to be stern at that chivalric flourish, but he couldn’t help it: he burst into laughter. Monty raised his head to look balefully at him, and Percy stroked his hand through Monty’s hair. “Will these be days you miss?” he wondered. “When they’re gone?”

Something must have been in his voice, because Monty sat up, the lines of his face rearranging to worry. “Percy,” he said. Then he laughed, sheepishly. “And here I was worrying you’d miss the days when I was less, you know,” he waved his hands, “be-fished.”

Percy caught Monty’s hands in his own, and kissed each palm with reverence. Then he stood and began to doff his performance trappings. “Now pour us a drink, love,” he urged, and Monty’s eyes glinted in the candlelight.

**Author's Note:**

> Title, summary, and headings adapted from Jennifer Chang’s “[Again a Solstice](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/again-solstice).”


End file.
